I haven't read a single email from our CMO in 3 years.
Her emails are essentially just paragraphs of anxiety masquerading as strategy.
In 2021, I wrote a Python script that intercepts all her messages before they hit my inbox.
The script uses basic natural language processing to scan for keywords like "urgent," "deliverable," or "bandwidth."
If it detects a request for my time, it automatically replies with a calendar link for a meeting 6 weeks in the future.
By the time the meeting actually arrives, she's either forgotten what she wanted or solved it herself.
If she asks for a technical feasibility assessment, the script generates a 4-paragraph response about DNS propagation delays.
It strings together words like asynchronous latency, packet fragmentation, and legacy bottleneck.
The emails are completely meaningless.
They're beautifully formatted technical word salads.
Yesterday, she brought one of my automated emails to the executive steering committee.
She projected it on the wall.
She told the entire C-suite that IT's implementation of a sub-net topological matrix was the reason her marketing launch had to be delayed.
I was sitting at the conference table.
I'd spent the last 45 minutes discreetly watching a documentary about the Marianas Trench on my iPhone under the table.
The CEO turned to me and asked if there was any way to bypass the matrix.
I took a slow sip of my coffee.
I looked him dead in the eye and said we could bypass it, but it would compromise our encrypted failover redundancy.
I told him I wasn't willing to risk a catastrophic data breach just to launch a social media campaign.
A hush fell over the room.
The CMO apologized for pushing me to compromise our security posture.
The CEO thanked me for being the unwavering guardian of our infrastructure.
My script won me an award for cross-departmental leadership.
I'm currently trying to automate my own performance review.
I have a strict personal rule that I never work on Fridays during the summer.
Unfortunately, our CEO scheduled a mandatory, all-hands strategy meeting for 2 PM on a Friday.
I knew the only way to cancel the meeting was to manufacture a catastrophic infrastructure emergency.
At exactly 1:45 PM, I logged into the primary firewall and blacklisted our own internal IP subnet.
The entire corporate network instantly went dark.
Slack went down, the VPN collapsed, and nobody could access the cloud servers.
The panic on the executive floor was immediate and incredibly satisfying to watch.
The CEO ran into the server room and asked if we were under a coordinated cyber attack from a foreign state actor.
I aggressively typed on my mechanical keyboard while staring at a completely meaningless command prompt window.
I told him we were experiencing a synchronized DNS avalanche targeting our core routing tables.
I used the phrase "malicious payload saturation."
I said I needed to manually sever the external fiber lines to prevent the ransomware from encrypting our financial records.
He told me to do whatever it takes to save the company and immediately sent out an email blast canceling the all-hands meeting.
I told everyone to go home because their physical presence was interfering with the wireless spectrum of my counter-offensive.
The building was completely empty by 2:15 PM.
I waited exactly 45 minutes to let the tension build while I ate a sandwich in the server room and watched an episode of Planet Earth.
Then I deleted the single line of code I had written and the network instantly came back online.
I walked out of the server room covered in a light layer of tactical sweat.
I called the CEO and told him I had successfully isolated the breach and deployed a proprietary counter-measure to shield the perimeter.
I explained that the battle was brutal, but our customer data was secured.
He was so relieved he gave me a $5K spot bonus and told me to take the next week off to recover from the digital trauma.
I spent the week at a luxury spa.
Being an IT hero is incredibly easy when you're also the architect of the disaster.
And this line should be framed in every courthouse in Ontario:
"Policy is for politics. Whether courts think legislation is wise or unwise is irrelevant so far as its constitutionality is concerned."
They do this all the time...
- They meet you as a long-haired man and then try to get you to change your hair.
- They meet you as a gym bro and then try to get you to cut down on gymming.
- They meet you as the outgoing guy and then try to get you to be like Nathan, the neighbour, who's almost always around and within.
It's not for social media views.
Women have an inclination to disrupt stability.